


The Visitor

by AdelaideElaine



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, So much angst, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 00:22:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1408081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdelaideElaine/pseuds/AdelaideElaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake's willing to give up everything for the sake of the case. Amy is...not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Visitor

**Author's Note:**

> I've become completely obsessed with this show and these character, and especially this pairing. I'm kind of devastated it's over for the season. I couldn't help but be inspired by Jake and Amy, and a lot of the great writing I've seen on them on this site. Please enjoy! -- Lady

She’s sitting on the floor outside his door when he comes home that night. Jake’s so startled to see her that he does a double take and fumbles for the gun at his hip. Amy throws up her hands. “It’s me,” she hisses, “it’s just me.”

Amy fumbles her way to a standing position, using the shabby, shoddily-wallpapered wall for support. Jake stares at her and doesn’t offer to help, but rears back when she takes a small step towards him. “You shouldn’t be here,” he mutters, glaring at the stained carpet. She only steps closer, and even though this apartment building is moldy and reeks of mildew, he can smell her perfume and it’s almost too familiar to stand. His empty hands curl into fists.

She reaches out to touch him on the arm and Jake flinches away. “Santiago,” he almost-gasps, head snapping to look at her.

Amy smiles, but not quickly enough to mask the hurt that flashes across her face. “Peralta,” she returns, something teasing in her tone that Jake’s never heard before.

“Are you drunk?” he asks, his brow furrowed and his jaw tight.

Amy giggles at the reversal of their traditional roles. “If I say yes, will you let me inside?”

Jake rolls his eyes at her, digging in his pants pocket for his keys. Amy blinks up at him expectantly. “What?” he asks, shortly.

Amy looks utterly crestfallen. “’If I say yes, will you let me inside?’ The title of my sex tape?”

A shiver runs down his spine as he considers the implications of her joke. Jake has thought about being inside Amy before, more times than he’d ever, _ever_ admit—but for some reason the idea is even more frustrating when she’s here, and she’s doing that pouty thing with her mouth, and he can smell her, that perfect of vanilla and cinnamon and pears.

“I’m done with cops,” he says firmly and a bit over-loudly, perhaps for the benefit of unseen cameras.

“I’m not here as a cop,” Amy replies, all trace of teasing gone from her voice. “I’m here as a friend.”

 A friend. If that isn’t a punch to the gut…

But lately he’s had a hard time saying no to her. Actually, lately he’s had a hard time not saying anything to her at all. So Jake unlocks the knob of his apartment door and holds the door open for Amy. She glides past him, into the dim apartment. Jake casts one last look over his shoulder and shuts the door, making sure to lock every bolt.

Amy, a few feet away from him, reaches up for a lightswitch. “Don’t,” Jake says, reaching out a hand to stop her.

She looks confused. “Why?”

He hesitates. “I…don’t want anyone to know I’m awake. I want them to think I just crawled into bed.” He can see a question forming behind Amy’s eyes, and he tries to nip it in the bud. “That’s all I’m going to say about that.”

“Okay,” Amy whispers with no trace of her trademark stubbornness. 

“What are you doing here?” Jake asks, his voice softening slightly.

Amy’s expression is unreadable in the dark. “I wanted to see you,” she says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Are you drunk?” he asks again, less reprimanding and more curious. Even now he can feel his anger slipping away. _She wanted to see me!_ a voice crows inside him.

“I had a glass of wine at dinner tonight,” Amy says. “Maybe two.” As Jake chuckles a little, Amy quickly types something into her phone, and shows it to him.

_Are we being watched?_

Jake squints down at the message. “Yes,” he responds. Amy freezes like a deer in headlights, her eyes going huge. “I mean, by the FBI. Not by my, you know, new friends.”

Amy draws a shaky breath and Jake almost puts his hands on her shoulders to steady her, but thinks better of it, stuffing his clumsy hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“Don’t look so relieved,” Jake scolds her, “You’re not supposed to be here. You could get in a lot of trouble with the NYPD, and the FBI too.”

“I don’t care.”

“Liar.”

“Am not.”

Jake snorts. “I’m not sure I can even imagine a situation in which you, Amy Santiago, would not mind getting in trouble." 

Amy sounds more than a little indignant at that. “I would get in trouble for my partner.”

“So we’re still partners?” Jake asks, tugging his tie loose.

“Yes.”

“I thought you were here because we’re friends.”

 “We can be both,” Amy huffs.

“Sometimes I wonder…” Jake murmurs, almost too quietly for Amy to hear. She’s already turned and is carefully feeling her way through the dark apartment with her fingertips. “Careful, careful.”

“Yes, _mom,”_ Amy snorts.

A genuine smile tugs at the corners of Jake’s lips for what feels like the first time in forever, and he’s kicking himself for allowing this to happen, but he doesn’t think he can bear to kick her out yet. He follows her into the living room, and places a guiding hand on the small of her back. She jumps but doesn’t move away. Amy reaches out and correctly identifies a lamp, an armchair, and a doorframe.

“Did they let you bring your massage chair?” she asks, poking the armchair inquisitively.

“Sadly, no.”

She turns her face up to him. “Do you miss it?” she asks softly.

“Yes,” comes Jake’s reply, in a voice he’s never used for talking about furniture, because it’s a voice that he uses for her alone.

Amy runs a finger along the door frame. “Where does this door lead?”

Jake swallows hard. “The, uh, bedroom.”

“Are there cameras in there?”

It takes Jake a second to process that one. He’s not one hundred percent sure this isn’t just a wet dream. “Uh…yes,” he finally says, and then, unable to keep himself from lightening the mood just a bit, adds, “But you know, when I made those jokes about your sex tape, I didn’t mean that you actually needed to turn that reality. I mean—“

Amy laughs and detaches herself from him, continuing to feel her way along the wall until she finds another door. “What’s this room?”

“The bathroom.”

“Are there cameras in there?”

Jake chuckles. “I hope not.”

Amy swings open the bathroom door and turns on the light. He squints at the sudden change in light. “Come in here,” Amy says, invitingly. She looks angelic, the bathroom light making her an enticing silhouette framed by the doorway.

Jake looks at the ground again. “I shouldn’t.”

“Come in here.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t understand.”

“Jake.”

He thinks he sees a smirk on Amy’s face, like she knows he can’t resist her when she calls him by his first name. Feeling shy for the first time in memory, Jake keeps his head bowed as he steps into the florescent glow of the bathroom. 

Amy gasps, her hands flying to her mouth before she can keep herself from doing it.

“That bad, huh?” Jake jokes feebly, wincing slightly. He hadn’t wanted her to see him like this, gaunt and pale and sporting one hell of a black eye.

Amy looks the same as she always has: beautiful, bright, and pure.  She’s a bit more tired and worn than when Jake last saw her, but that doesn’t matter to him. He doesn’t even try to keep himself from staring down into her sweet face, drinking in the sight of it like a man dying of thirst who’d just been given a giant glass of water.

The moment is shattered when Amy bursts into tears, burying her face in her hands.

Jake moves quickly, drawing her trembling frame into arms and letting her bury her damp face in his flannel shirt. “It’s going to be ok,” he reassures her hollowly. Amy’s sobs redouble and her small hands clutch at his jacket, clinging to him tightly. “How did you find out where I was?” he asks, desperately hoping for a change of subject.

“Gina did a little recon for me while Holt was out,” Amy admits, sniffling. “So you can probably expect a visit from her soon.”

Jake frowns. “I want you to tell her not to come,” he says seriously.

Amy looks up at him, tears still shining in her eyes even as her sobs subside. “Gina never listens to me. And when she hears I came—“

“Well, she’s not going to hear,” Jake says sternly, holding Amy at an arm’s length. “And I don’t want you to come back. I’m not supposed to have any outside contact right now.”

Amy scowls and crosses her arms protectively over her chest. “Since when do you follow the rules, Peralta?”

“Since you decided to put yourself, me, and even this mission in danger by showing up!” Jake whisper-shouts.

For a moment, they just gape at each other, both shocked by Jake’s outburst. Finally Amy breaks the silence, her voice trembling. “You’re right. It was a mistake to come.”

“No, no,” he passes an exhausted hand over his bruised face. “Amy, that’s not what I meant.”

“I’m sorry,” Amy says, frantically smoothing her ruffled hair and wiping away stray tears with the backs of her hands. “This was a mistake, I don’t know what I was thinking." 

He catches her around the wrist as she goes for the door. “Amy…”

She looks at him, expectantly. “Yes?”

“Nothing.” He smiles. “I’ve just missed saying your name.”

That brings Amy up short. She doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t lean in either. And she seems to be fighting tears again. _God Jake,_ he berates himself, _you really do have an amazing knack for fucking this stuff up._

But then she’s leaning in, and her soft lips are pressed against his cheek, so it’s not all bad.

Jake looks up at Amy, surprised. “I missed you,” she says simply.

“Who are you and what have you done with Detective Santiago?”

“Hey.”

Jake can’t pull her pigtails tonight. He’s too far too busy reveling in the fact that she’s here in his apartment, where he sleeps and eats and watches bad reality TV and jerks off (he only thinks about Amy when he does like eighty-percent of the time, so it’s not weird.)

“How’s ol’ Teddy?” he asks as casually as possible.

Amy smirks at him. “Subtle.”

Jake grins but look away. Amy steps closer. “Do I seem like the type of girl who would cheat on her boyfriend?”

“No,” Jake replies earnestly.

“Good,” Amy says with a smile, closing the distance between them and kissing him hard on the mouth. After being momentarily frozen in place by shock, Jake returns her kiss with enthusiasm, slipping his tongue into her mouth as he drew her even closer to him.

After that, everything is a blur of dark hair, soft skin, and inconvenient buttons. He takes her up against the bathroom counter. It’s over embarrassingly quickly.

“This isn’t what I had in mind, you know,” he admits, as they lie panting on the bathroom floor. “I wanted our first time to be, you know, special—“

“This was special,” Amy says firmly, tracing the ridge of his nose with a fingertip. Seeing that he still looks put out, Amy can’t help but smile sympathetically. “Nothing ever goes according to plan.”

“Yeah,” Jake replies absent-mindedly, stroking her hair and staring at the ceiling. “I just hope that when we did it, we’d be able to at least spend the night together.”

 Amy rolls over onto her belly. “Are you kicking me out?”

Jake wraps an arm around her, holding her tight to his body. “No. Yes. Kind of. Yeah.”

Amy raises her eyebrows and Jake continues frantically, “Obviously I don’t want you to leave, I just—I can’t let anyone know, and you’d be a target and—“

Amy silences him with a kiss. “I understand,” she says as she pulls away. “I’ll go.”

 “I changed my mind,” Jake says, his voice lower and hoarser than usual, running a hand over her bare shoulder and down her naked back. “Stay here. Stay the night.”

 “We both know I can’t,” Amy sighs, slithering out from his embrace and slipping on her clothes.

 He walks her back to the door of his apartment, a towel wrapped around his waist. There’s no sense in denying that the only plans he has for the rest of the night are several painfully cold showers.

Once at the front door, neither of them can seem to bring themselves to open in. “Thanks for coming,” he says, trying desperately to keep his voice steady.

“That should be the title of my sex tape, right?” Amy asks with a hopeful smile that Jake can’t bring himself to match.

“I meant it when I said you can’t come back.”

“I know,” Amy grumbles, peering up at him through her long, dark eyelashes. He gathers her small frame up in his arms, and they stay locked in an embrace for a long time.

“I’ll miss you,” Jake sighs. “I mean, I have been missing you, but now I’m going to be missing you _even more._ ” 

Amy smiles and presses her lips to the underside of his jaw. “When you’re back on the force, we can—“

Jake doesn’t even let her finish the thought. “Amy.”

“Yes?” 

“Don’t wait for me.”

Amy doesn’t speak for a long moment.

“What does that mean?” she finally murmurs, unable to keep a note of fear out of her voice.

“It means,” Jakes says with a heavy sigh, “There’s no guarantee I’ll ever be back at the Nine-Nine.”

“Don’t say that,” she whimpers.

Jake tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and smiles tightly. “See ya, Santiago.”

Her face falls. “Goodnight, Peralta.” 

And then she’s gone, and Jake is alone again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! -- Lady


End file.
